


Series of Fortunate Events

by MidgetBanana



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Drug Use, Eventual Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, Modern Thedas, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression, references to real world historical events, there's a mabari, trying to hit the cliché jackpot here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 09:41:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17826353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidgetBanana/pseuds/MidgetBanana
Summary: Circa 9:42 Dragon, Thedas had just begun to recover from the civil war that toppled the Religious Constitutions. The Conclave may have agreed to disband the Order and Circles, however the memory of destruction mages left at their wake remained fresh in many people's mind. In between all the civil tension and bigotry, a mage meets a templar.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer! I understand if my handling of certain issues come across disrespectful to real victims of similar events. Apologies in advance. I simply wanted to explore the parallels DA drew between these subjects.

Robin met the Commander on the Halloween night at the Apex. He swallowed some pills, got himself covered in lime juice and salt and took off with a slutty Tarzan. They fucked like cavemen.

The morning after a blond man with broad shoulders had all but faded from his memory. He gathered what little clothing he had and had the infamous walk of shame from the Lowtown to the M2 metro line. If he stood out a little as a slutty officer in the crowd of corporate people in this time of day, his head was hurting too bad to care.

When he had the sky over his head again, he lit a cig and went for the pub.

His people lived on top of the pub. First it had been only Bull, then came Dorian. Sometimes it had been three of them, but mostly just the two. He had ‘moved out’ earlier that week, there came a point in which the house just couldn’t handle two mages, a qunari and a swing. He had found a feasible place at the center of Hightown for a very reasonable rent, suspiciously reasonable and for a good reason, the place was overlooking the main street that was ever full of life and a massive neon billboard of a ladies cleavage, harmless during mornings but had the most maddening buzz during night.

The pub wasn’t open yet, unsurprisingly. No sane man would pick up his business when the sky’s still dim, much less Varric.

“Check your messages, you whore!”

The voice came from upstairs window, where Dorian was leaning out over his arms.

“Dead.” he pulled out his phone to show the man the evidence.

“You comin’ up or just gonna look pretty for the garbage man?”

“Yeah, that.” he flapped his arms “Can you buzz me in? Left the keys at my place.”

The man shook his head and disappeared. Soon after the door was unlocked. It took some effort to push as the mechanism was still as jammed as the day he moved in there. He made his way up, he was not at all shocked at the state he found the flat in, utterly dilapidated.

“He left already?” Robin asked as he stepped in, scanning for the qunari. Dorian shrugged, “Someone has to pay the rent.”

He went for the fridge. Pulling out two bottles, he threw one at the other mage who had made himself comfortable on the bean bag before dropping himself on the couch. “Still no luck?”

Mage took a generous sip before answering simply to clarify what they both knew “What do you think?”

“You know,” he slid over the arm of the couch, reaching for the socket to plug in his charger “I can hook you up with a new ID, a doe-eyed country boy from Ferelden, an Orlesian bourgeois… whatever floats your boat.”

He raised a brow, “Can you hook me up with a new accent as well, I wonder.”

It’s true, the tension between northern and southern Thedas had been as prominent as ever, more so after the civil war. At least a qunari could still find work as muscle but  queer, Vint and a mage was the equivalent of hitting the discrimination bingo in Marches. Even immigrant elves had somewhat of a support system.

As soon as his phone booted up he was hoarded with notifications, almost made his screen froze.

“That would be me.” Dorian said, then added with a chuckle “Mostly.”

_You ther e?_

_Where r u?_

“What’s this even supposed to mean; _‘this sludge, paying’_ ” he read along “ _‘Bear n mind’_ ”

He bent over to get a better look at Robin’s screen, “I don’t know. But you left me out in the cold there. If you gonna bail at least let a guy know.”

“Sorry.”

“I thought you got drugged and sold to sex trafficking in Antiva.”

“You know that’s not how sex trafficking works, right?”

“Oh, pardon me. I forgot I’m in the presence of a professional prostitute.”

“Hey, if you’re good at something…”

“Never do it for free.” he rolled his eyes but clunk their bottles before settling back. They sat in a comfortable silence for a while as Robin tried his luck with the TV, still no signal. Him and Bull hijacked their neighbours antenna about a year ago, it never worked quite as it was supposed to but once in a blue moon they could get the official news channel or a Ferelden documentary. Giving up, jumped on his feet “You got hot water?”

“Not since this winter. Why, you left your juice with your keys?”

“And if I am, are you gonna coddle me?” he grinned, “Oh, please Magister Pavus, spray your fire all over my body.”

The barely dodged the remote that was aimed straight for his face “For the hundredth time,” he man yelled behind him as he made his escape to the shower “Not. A. Magister!”

Tactfully avoiding the mirror, he shed the slutty officer’s costume. It felt good to be finally out of his sweaty clothes. As adventurous as Bull and Dorian had been, the missing shower curtains were on Robin. The cracks on bathtub… He wasn’t sure, could be anything.

He missed living in this junkyard of a flat. He was happy Bull find himself someone to settle with, he really did like Dorian. As disappointed as he was in himself that it didn’t work with either of them, he wasn’t exactly broken up about it. It hurt more that people moved on and he was still in square one; alone, constantly between places… on the run.

He shook off his thoughts, let them wash over along the dried up salt and saliva covering his body. No, he chose this. He chose being with himself, he needed time. Despite everything, both the best and the worst company he’d have was his own. _That_ was the relationship he should be focusing on for the time being.

Sufficiently freshened, he stepped out. Just in time too, he didn’t realize he almost boiled himself alive until he saw the colour of skin nearly matching his pubes.

“I need clothes!” he shouted, popping out. His costume didn’t look like it could take another journey.

Dorian couldn’t even be bothered to stand up, he waved towards the bedroom “Help yourself.”

‘Bedroom’ was a little arbitrary in this case. There was a mattress, sure, but he wouldn’t go as far as to call it a ‘bed’. Shuffling through what he assumed Dorian’s side of the cloth pile, he somehow managed to find something that a normal person would actually wear. Dorian could actually carry whatever he wore but anyone else would likely look like the lovechild of a pimp and an exotic dancer. By the looks of the oversized sweater he picked, it fell victim to an unfortunate case of sleepy Bull pulling from the wrong side of the wardrobe.

He checked the time, he didn’t have much time left to dally around before the truck arrived. He collected his things, bid Dorian a quick farewell and took off. Moving company was going to to arrive today, he wasn’t exactly running late but if he had spent another minute or so, he would’ve missed the evening tram.

He made it just barely, running the last kilometre. He was out of breath when he hopped inside and the doors missed his arm just by an inch.

When he was safely in, he noticed the vibration on his back pocket, he must’ve left his phone in silent. The girl on the other end didn’t even give him time to say ‘hello’.

“Wake up, Gingerale!”

“Morning, Sera.”

“Open your door, ye?” there was a sound of her trying to ring his bell.

“I’m on my way.”

“You’re not home?”

“Clearly not, didn’t the door give it away?”

“It’s unpacking day! Get your butt here ASAP, I have these snobs here giving me the stink eye. You think they’ve never seen an elf before.”

“I’m in the tram,” As always, they got hold up for an ID check at the control point of Hightown border. “Listen, I gotta hang up now, I’ll be there in ten.” He was used to the drill, he pulled out his documents obediently. “Be good now, mage.” the guard said, handing him back the permit unwillingly. Dorian said the freed slaves, mostly elves, had to carry something similar in the Imperium. Around here it was usually the posh crowd that didn’t want undesirables around their fancy marble streets. Although it was a necessary process, few cared to check for his brand around Lowtown.

He wasn’t much bothered by it, it was a small price to pay for his freedom. Only now, every person in the tram looked as if he was gonna spontaneously combust.

They must all have collectively breathed a sigh of relief when he got off at his stop.

He stepped around the corner of his street just in time to see the truck pull over. Sera was either waving at him or the truck. The driver helped him and Sera take his furniture off the vehicle but no more. He seemed like an all around nice person, just too old to be carrying stuff up to the fifth floor. Robin even left him a handsome tip.

Sera grabbed a couple of smaller boxes and disappeared to the elevator. He followed suit, lifting whatever he could and taking the elevator. At least in Hightown he didn’t need to worry about people running off with his things as he carried the others up.

“Thom said he’s gonna run a little late, of course you’d know this if yOU CHECKED YOUR MESSAGES!”

“It’s fine.” he left the boxes in the middle of the empty flat “We’ll do what we can until then.”

In the typical Sera way, she was done listening to him and now was trying to arrange the boxes into a... fortress? Or something cubic, at least.

He made the journey up and down three more times and was just coming down from a very straining five levels of stairs carrying sideboards of a disassembled closet when he found a suspicious man staring at his things piled up on the sidewalk with interest. Upon seeing him his features softened into a smile. And what features they were. Even though he seemed quite disciplined in posture, he had a scruffy look about him. He had a strong jawline covered in nine o’clock shadow and his curly golden locks were combed back lazily, few stray falling over his forehead. Robin was just about to tune up his charms, then he realized the scent of lyrium that hit him.

He froze instinctively, assuming a somewhat defensive stance. “Ah, good evening.” the man said, taking a step closer, which in return Robin couldn’t stop himself from taking one back.

“We met last night, at the club?”

“ _Right._ ” Robin squinted his eyes sceptically. He thought he would’ve remembered meeting a templar but then he was probably too fucked up to notice a subtle smell in a club full of every stench imaginable to mankind. The templar, or ex templar now, Robin assumed, didn’t press the subject. He extended his hand, making Robin flinch. “Cullen Rutherford.” he stated. Robin stared at the hand like he expected him to strike for a moment, he certainly didn’t wanna come in contact with _any_ templar. Letting his hand hang awkwardly between them, he simply said “Robin.”

The man nervously withdrew his hand and rubbed his neck, cracking a lopsided grin “Just Robin?”

“For you.” Seeing how the guy might get suspicious he decided to give him something, only if it would get him off of his back “You may call me ‘Rob’ in a year, if I stick around for that long.”

The man chuckled “Just Robin it is, then.”

He gestured towards the pile, “These are yours?”

Robin nodded, and the man finally stepped out of his personal space, which for his kind was about a hundred mile radius, giving him a little breathing space.

“Need help?” he asked. Robin had just opened his mouth to refuse when Sera hopped out the door, making Robin jump on his feet.

“Yep!”

Robin tried to wiggle his eyebrows at her, trying to explain with moronic expressions that the man is a templar, to no avail. She left with her load as soon as she appeared. “No, I got it. Thank you.” he tried to smile but his mouth could only form a thin line.

“It’s alright, two hands are better than one…” he rubbed his chin “Or two better than three, in this case.”

He tapped on the fridge, “Fifth floor, right?”

This was getting creepier by the minute, could the guy be stalking him?  Maybe he knew about him, maybe him and his buddies decided to catch themselves a mage to get back at them. Have a fun on the side. These cases were all too common, you’d occasionally hear a mage go missing, either for their bodies to be found tossed away the side of a highway or dropped at the door of some ER worse for wear. He gave him a nod, tensely. He would lock his door tight tonight, or stay at Bull’s for a couple of days, waiting for him to lose interest.

As if he read his thoughts the man hastily muttered “I’m not--I wasn’t--I mean,” he cleared his throat “I live in the flat across yours. It was the only empty one so I figured--”

Robin’s relief was short lived as the realization dawned on him that he was going to have to live _right next to a templar. A fucking templar!_ If he acted fast, he could still get the deposit, he could cover the transportation with that, crash at the pub for until he found a templar-free place. These people were like pests, popping out on the place you expect them the least, probably eating your cheese. He didn’t know what they did in their free time aside from abusing mages and he didn’t want to.

While he was lost in his own mind, the templar had already dragged the fridge over the threshold. Yeah, he was gonna break his back like that. Good riddance, one one hand, on the other, Robin would still be left with a fridge he couldn’t move on his own and it might even get damaged falling on a man. He couldn’t afford a new one right now and last he tried to magically keep things fresh, they licked ice cubes of beer for a month.

“Hold on.” he reached down to grab it by the other end, lifting it up with ease. At the end of the stairs, he let the guy take the weight on the lower end. He seemed better built. By the third floor his hold seemed to get shaky, somewhat.

“You good?”

The man let out a groan that sounded like a yes.

“We can swap.”

“I’m good” he huffed, trying to collect himself. He didn’t look good.

Robin made a circle around the man on the hallway, rearranging their position “Don’t knock yourself out yet, we still have the bed and the couch.”

He man gave a ‘heh’ and complied, he couldn’t do much else. Now the entire weight of fridge on Robin, he could see the perks in templar training. When the last two floors were behind them, Robin was ready to meet his Maker. His entire body was crying in agony, he felt nauseous. But they somehow managed to get the cursed fridge inside without him turning into a puddle on the floor. Just as they set it down Sera rose from inside her ‘fortress’, making a finger gun at them “Freeze! Templar Order, let me see your permit!”

Robin’s blood turned cold. Innocent on it’s own, with the context of their situation this kind of talk might alert the actual templar to them. If he told Sera he’s a templar now, he’d know what Robin is for sure. He’d never seen someone who’s not a mage notice the lyrium.

Seemingly oblivious, Cullen threw his hands up “You got me Knight-Commander, I’m afraid I don’t have my permit with me.”

“No permit, no entry!” she kept her finger gun pointing at the man. “See, it’s a square. Only non-mages are allowed!”

She waved her arms around the fortress, snickering “You get it? Because it’s not a circle, it’s a square.”

“Yes, yes Sera we get it. We’ll stay out of your square.” he cut her off. Grabbing the man and rushing to the elevator. When he had a moment to breathe, he wiped his sweaty face with his top. He was very adamant on not making an eye contact with the templar, confined in the small space of the elevator. He pulled the sleeves of his sweater over his fingers out of habit, the man wouldn’t be able to see his wrist regardless, however with the memory of civil war still fresh on everyone’s mind, he didn’t wanna take his chances.

After that, they managed to carry the bed with minimal communication. Thankfully, it wasn’t as heavy as the fridge, harder to maneuver but the stairway of this building wasn’t nearly as narrow as his previous place.

Thom came to his rescue before sofa. The painful noises of his pickup was pretty hard to miss. He circled around the block trying to find a parking spot. Robin was planning on scolding him for making him put up with this but how could he when he was galloping towards them with a six-pack on each hand.

“Hey, man. Sorry, crazy traffic at E4.”

Disregarding him, Robin made grabby hands at the cans. Thom pulled one out and placed it on the mage’s eager hands. Robin hastily cracked it open and chucked down more than half in one go like a man dying of thirst. He needed this, so bad. When he was done making love to his booze, he pressed the cold can on his forehead and waved at the templar casually “Blackwall, Cullen Rutherford, my neighbor. Cullen Rutherford, Blackwall, a friend.”

“Hey man.” Giving a firm nod, Thom passed the man a can. He must’ve been as thirsty as him because he was just as sloppy with the way he gulped down his share. He let out a huff of air and wiped his chin where some drops escaped with the back of his hand. He thanked Thom, still trying to catch his breath.

“Andraste’s backside, what you been doin’?”

Robin sighed, “Honing the worst hangover of the century.”

“I would believe you if I hadn’t heard the exact same sentence just two days ago.”

“Fuck off.”

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“You know it.” Robin reached for his pack, he’d have to use lighter now. He fumbled a bit with his pockets. Would it be too much to ask for that for once his emergency lighter would be in the first pocket he checked.

Thom shook his head, “That shit’s gonna kill you.”

“If only I was that lucky.”

“Self deprecating humour, nice.”

Sera conveniently appeared at the doorway, running up on Thom and squeezing the life out of him “Beardy! He doesn’t need us anymore, he has his…” he eyed the templar, Robin could practically see the corks in her head turning to come up with a whimsical word “boytoy.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Robin groaned, rubbing his temples.

“We haven’t met yet, right? Cullen.” the man extended his hand only to awkwardly pull it back mid-way, likely recalling the last time. Sera, though, grabbed it enthusiastically, giving him the much needed handshake “You tried that with Robin, ye? He just gets iffy with these shite.” she laughed at her own words, “There was this one time I snuck up on him, you know, for pranks--”

“Sera.” he managed to intervene in time. That story didn’t end with anything suitable for a mage hunter’s ears.

Seeing how Thom was here now, he felt the time appropriate to part ways with this templar, “Anyways, yeah. Thanks for the help, I think we can take it from here.”

His tone came out ruder than he intended, he didn’t mean to shoo the man off. At least he didn’t mean for it to come across that way.

The man looked a little disappointed, even. Maybe carrying crap was his favourite past time. “Okay, good.” he clasped his hands “It was a pleasure to meet you. I’m at no. eight, if you need anything.”

Robin had another attempt at a polite smile, “Appreciate it.”

He followed with his eyes as the man left their field of vision entirely, when he was absolutely sure he was out of earshot, he felt like he could finally use his lungs again, “What the fuck, Sera! That man is a templar!”

“What? More suspicious if you act constipated, innit?”

He swung his arms up, claving his hair “Do you want me to get killed?”

“I thought you wanted to get killed.” Thom said smugly, taking a sip from his beer.

“Not by a fucking templar.”

“What, then? Lung cancer?”

Sera shouted “Bees!” from behind.

“Renal failure?”

“Bees!”

Robin shrugged, “Either.”

“Bees!”

“Yes, Sera! I wanna get killed by bees! As long as they are not templar bees sic them at me!”

Thom said after a while, “You’re overreacting. He seems harmless.”

Robin scrunched up his eyes ominously “That’s what they want you to think.”

Honestly, they knew the reason he acted the way he did, he didn’t need to explain himself to them. They’d tease a little occasionally but it was mostly safe. She was acting coy now but Robin knew the next time they meet, Sera would be more careful.

They decided to take on the couch next, seeing how that was the only challenge left. It proved to be much harder than the fridge and bed combined. Maybe because there was an elf sitting on it. In an hour or so, when they got the last box in Thom had to leave, it was almost his shift. Sera lingered a little longer to help him unpack but she too ran out after receiving a message with questionable content from her Widdle.

So came the nightfall, and he was left alone with all of his belongings, only the neon lady’s cleavage illuminating them. He probably had power, he just forgot to put up the lights. It was too dark to do it now.

He threw himself to the nylon covered mattress. Despite the constant honking and the sign buzzing, it felt incredibly silent. An what little possession he had wasn’t nearly enough to make this place feel less empty. Perhaps it was odd that he longed for loud moans coming from the other room, or the three months old pizza left on the counter developing a new life form. After all, he’d never lived on his own before. He’d get used to it, he was sure of it...

He was awakened by the door, he must’ve dozed off. His blurry vision didn’t register immediately that the lights dancing over his eyes was in the real world. He rubbed his face, groaning. The knock came again, a little weaker this time. “Coming!” he shouted but even his own voice irritated him. He wobbled towards the door with a little more grace than bronto in heat.

Pressing his head to the peephole, he was met with the warped face of the templar. His breath got stuck in his throat. As soundlessly as possible, he pressed his back to the door. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to calm himself.

He reached for his back pocket, feeling the paper there. He pulled out his phone, worst case, he could call someone. He would be fine. He could pretend he wasn’t home if he didn’t just shout like an idiot. He used to be more careful than this.

After making sure the chain is in place and taking a deep breath, he cracked the door open slightly.

At least the man seemed unarmed, and alone. He could probably take him.

“Sorry I was just--” he cut himself off “Hi.”

“Hey.” Robin said dryly.

“Yeah I was just wondering if you need help assembling your furniture.”

He considered for a second before deciding the truth to be enough of an excuse, he was being irritatingly nice and it was getting on his nerves “I have no lights.”

“I see… Sorry to bother you. Good night.” he made an attempt to swing on his feet only to stop himself abruptly, somehow keeping the friendly smile on his face. “I have this--” he let out a frustrated sign, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Look, I was gonna order something to eat and… If you hadn’t had dinner yet...”

He was so tempted to just shut the door on the man, if only to stop his rambling. Even if he didn’t have an angle, which he didn’t believe for a second, there was still no reason for him to just… just...

In hindsight, the man didn’t really do anything abnormal, did he? Robin probably wouldn’t be this mistrustful had he not been a templar. Scratch that, he’d probably be all over him.

“Well, anyways. The offer stands.” with that, he turned away and took his leave. So of course Robin did the reasonable thing and closed the door, went back to his napping and forgot anybody ever lived on the flat number eight.

Only, he didn’t. Not exactly. But he wished he did because the next thing he blurted out was likely competing for the world record of the stupidest answer one can give to a dinner offer.

“I’m a mage.”


	2. Chapter 2

“I’m a mage.”

The man froze on his tracks. 

Robin felt the blood drain from his face, his entire body suddenly gone limb. He could tell he must be hyperventilating as he clumsily pulled out the paper from his pocket, unfolding it with shaky fingers.

“I--I’m not an apostate.” he stuttered frantically “I have the--”

The only thing between him and a templar was now a slit of worn paper. He managed to hold the permit up as if to shield himself when the man turned around slowly.

On the bright side, even though the dumb smile was missing from his face, he didn’t exactly look like he wanted to flay him alive.

“You okay?”

“Huh?”

He took a step towards the door to get a better look at the man safely covering in the dark, “You sound rattled.”

Sudden panic taking Robin, he all but shouted his next words; “I’m fine!” There was a silent ‘don’t come any closer’ he couldn’t voice.

The templar had one of his hands hanging between them defensively, Robin knew that pose only too well. It was usually followed by the words ‘Don’t do anything you’re gonna regret, mage.’

But the words never came… The man quietly retreated.

When the door of his flat clicked close Robin’s shut his own in a hurry, he tried to lean on the cool metal but his legs gave away from under him. He slid down, burying his head on his knees he attempted to collect himself somewhat.

What the fuck had he just done? What came over him? He would have to move out now for certain. Screw Kirkwall, move out from Thedas entirely. Walk the fade like that homeless elf… seemed like a pretty solid plan right about now. 

There was a familiar burning ache spreading from his shoulders to his neck, blurring the edge of his vision. It reached for his head, having it’s invisible hands wrap around his throat.

Between the sharp jolts of pain in his brain and the dangerous levels of power pulsing at his fingertips, he somehow managed to dial for his friend, putting it on speaker. He always knew how to calm him;

“What’s up, Boss?”

“I’m ‘bout to blow.”

At the sound of his trembling tone, the voice on the other end immediately took a turn for the serious, “You at your new place?”

“Yea.”

“Alright, I’m on my way.” there was a shuffling on the other end, and he shouted something intelligible at Dorian. Then he returned, “Close your eyes, focus on my voice.”

He did so, as soon as the neon light got blocked by his eyelids, he started feeling a little less dizzy. He tried to picture the qunari leaving the apartment, stuffing his massive figure into that comically tiny Volvo of his “I need you to hum or something to let me know you’re still with me.”

“Hmm…”

“Good, don’t stop breathing. Count it if you have to. Inhale from mouth…” He gave him some time to comply “... exhale from your nose.”

The creak of Volvo’s door shutting behind him accompanied. Robin hummed, letting the man continue. He started the engine.

“Llomerynn shore…” he began, waiting for Robin.

“Looking over Bastion Bay…” Robin managed, he imagined the fields of wheat reap for harvest, painting the land gold. The gentle breeze of salt water filled his nose “he sings a lullaby, off-key.”

“And you are?”

“On the piano. I don’t know how to play yet, I just watch them.”

“Good,” there was a pause “I’m on the highway. I’m not hanging up but I can’t talk. I’m handing the phone to Dorian, keep talking as much as you can.”

After that point, he wasn’t sure what he told Dorian or whether he spoke at all. When they arrived he had enough use of his limbs to let them in. They didn’t come empty-handed. Actually, he felt quite fine. It seemed so excessive that he bothered them at all. He assured himself, for the millionth time, that they were free, he would’ve done the same for them. It’s what friends are for.

Dorian immediately conjured a ball of fire that hung in the middle of the room, illuminating it fully. Bull helped him out of his sweaty clothes while Dorian dug up another worn down sweater from one of his boxes. Bull pressed a can of cold beverage on the tip of Robin’s nose, ushering him to take. He brought it to his lips without question. What he found it out to be was a major disappointment.

“Seriously? Juice?”

“Drink up.” Bull ordered. When he was satisfied with Robin’s nourishment, he shoved a chocolate bar on his face “For the nerves.”

He chuckled, it was so typical of Bull to stop by on his way at 1 AM just to buy a chocolate bar.

“When’s the last time you ate?” Dorian asked, looking over his barren apartment. He shrugged. Last night, probably.

“Good thing you have an admirer,” he pointed at the box of pizza they were carrying, “we found this at your doorstep.”

Bull reached for the post-it stuck on it. He read, “ _ It was a two-for-one deal. _ ”

He raised an eyebrow, looking expectantly at Robin.

No use being cryptic, he thought. Not after making them come all the way from Lowtown. So he told them everything transpired. From the night he didn’t remember to his abrupt confession...

“Why? Why would you tell him that?”

“I don’t know, Dorian!” he dropped his head back, “I don’t fucking know.”

Bull passed him the joint as he graced them with his infinite wisdom “You never handled tension well.”

“BS.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying you crack under pressure. But when it comes to suspense you much rather going all in and get it over with.”

He rolled his eyes, “Maker’s ass. You lose to a qunari  _ once  _ in Wicked Grace…”

Dorian had the last drag and killed it on the empty pizza box. He sighed. “Not to cut this party short but, I believe you have about four hours before your class.”

“Yeah, Boss.” Bull hopped on his feet with a new found energy “So what do you wanna do? Crash at our place until this blows over?”

“Nah.”

“Are you sure?” Dorian insisted “It’s still your place just as much as ours.”

He knew they were genuine. He appreciated it, in his own unaffectionate way. It wasn’t that big of a deal, he overreacted. He should be fine if he kept interactions to minimum, a polite greeting once in a while if their paths cross and no more.

“Yeah. I should really hit the couch now.”

“Oh, no no no.” Dorian grabbed his wrist, pulling him down to the nylon mattress “You’re the little spoon today.”

Even if he wanted to escape, it would be pretty futile after the qunari’s arm wrapped around them both. There was no denying these two, he stopped trying long ago. As the other mage snuggled up, he felt the tension steadily leaving his body. The fireball slowly died down, leaving flashing neons back in its place. He emptied his mind, only focusing on the annoying buzz and in no time, his eyelids dropped.


	3. Chapter 3

Two alarms rang in unison, one the default android and the other some sort of qunari anthem.

Dorian gave in first, groaning “Kaffas!” There was an elbow shoved on Robin’s face as he struggled to push Bull off. Eventually, he somehow managed to slid out from between them.

“Wake up!”

Bull gave a disapproving grunt and rolled on his face, leaving Robin out in the cold. He fought with every fiber of his being to fell back to sleep. Each word Dorian said, he blocked it out, trying to grasp onto the cozy feeling.

He first felt the tingling on his leg, lasted for a split second before turning into a strong current that zapped him right off the mattress.

“What the fuck?” he landed on his ass with a thud. He looked around in confusion, blinking a couple of times to see Dorian standing over them, hands on hips with a snobbish look. 

“You shocked me?”

“It’s called EST, might do you good.”

“You  _ shocked  _ me.”

He pointed at the phone on the Robin’s side, “Turn that off.”

He did so, keeping a childish pout. Ignoring him, Dorian pulled him up to his feet. He shooed him off to the bathroom, saying he had a qunari to take care of. 

Robin was late. He didn’t think he’d sleep that deeply, not that he was complaining. At least he slept in his jeans, he didn’t need to change. He stuffed everything that remotely resemble a paperback in his bag and bolted off. Dorian was still wrestling with the qunari when the elevator doors closed. 

Whoever thought mirrors in elevators is a good idea was clearly a troubled person. Who the fuck would want to face their drowsy reflection, one eye not even all the way open, seven in the morning. He made a half-assed attempt to fix his hair, only to make it worse somehow. He didn’t even know that was possible. 

He had to make a one eighty at the tram station, watching his treacherous transportation pass him by. There may have been some collateral damage left behind by the time he squeezed in with the other half of Kirkwall condensed into one train.

Needless to say, he didn’t make it in time. He was cutting pretty close to the seventy percent attendance there.

The classes went by in a haze, he may have dozed off sometime after The First Qunari War and Its Effects on Current Society. He was so ready to reunite with his bed but he had just one more thing on his mind…

Begrudgingly, he walked up to the Faculty of Magic. It was a relatively small building, stuck out a little as the only one with a brand new coat of paint. When he looked closely, he could still see the faint outline of ‘Student Affairs’ next to the entrance. He waited there for about twenty minutes. He had just lit a new cig when people started pouring out. He almost missed the bald woman in the crowd. He pushed some innocent students aside, roughly. He was sure he heard someone call him an asshole but he was too occupied to shoot back. “Viv!” he tried to call out, “Madame Vivienne!”

The woman simply spared him a cold, dead glimpse from under her glasses. She slowed down just a little, but didn’t stop. It was enough for Robin to catch up to her, however.

“It’s ‘Professor’ now, Mr. Trevelyan.”

“Right, pardon me. Madame Professor,” Robin was practically running next to her, it was a wonder how a woman wearing six inch heels could walk this fast.

The woman sighed. “How nice of you to find me, darling. But aren’t you going to miss your curfew for the homeless shelter?”

“Charming as always.”

“Whatever can I do for you, darling.” her words were as kind as ever but her tone told another story.

“I’m cashing in my favour.”

She halted. Her face didn’t betray her emotions but Robin could tell she got nervous. Fixing her glasses, she spoke softly “Very well.”

“You still don’t have an assistant, right?”

“My dear, I can’t possibly take an assistant whose attention span doesn’t exceed a ferret’s. Humbled by your interest nevertheless.”

“Not me,” Oh, how Robin wanted to choke the life out of her, it was a constant struggle. “I have a friend--”

She chuckled. He could just imagine what she was thinking, and none of it was flattering. “I’m not asking you to cut any corners. Look, he’s an immigrant mage… If he goes through the legitimate channels you and I both know his application will end up at the bottom of a trash can. But  _ if a faculty member personally requests to evaluate his file…” _

She waved her hand in an extravagant way, “And who is to say this faculty member will find him up to par?”

“That will be for the faculty member to decide. All I ask is for that faculty member to give him an equal chance.”

She took a second to consider, composing herself. She cleared her throat and elegantly reached for her pocket, pulling out a golden business card. She held it between her fingers, dangling it like a prize monkey. “Your favour..?” she inquired impatiently.

“What favour?”

Satisfied, she let him snatch the card from her grasp and stormed away. Robin shouted “Don’t be a stranger.” from behind her back, she paid him no mind. 

Professor Vivienne, or Madame Vivienne back when Robin had the utmost displeasure of meeting her, had sold out her own people to form a coalition with the Loyalists during the referendum of 9:39, causing a massive divide between the Circle of Magi. She had been a respected -and relatively successful- politician. Which quite literally meant she was good at bullshitting her way to the top. But only when the fight’s with words. Her fragile empire had crumbled as fraternities erupted into disorganized guerillas. When the had dust settled, she had been left with nothing more than a piece of paper. Just like the people she had turned her back on. 

That’s where Robin came in. As his fraternity, the Libertarians, had been the most dominant and riding party, they had been elected to represent their kind in the Conclave. This decision had subsequently united mages under one banner. At the wake of the Conclave, as the sole party representing mages interests, the higher-ups had agreed to place more of their people in strategic positions, government institutions. When Robin had put forth Madame Vivienne, a washed-up Lucrosian’s name, it had raised some eyebrows. But the general consensus had remained that she was a tactful politician, thus giving her an opportunity to prove herself in Academia and look down on however many people as her heart pleased.

_ That  _ was Robin’s personal favour, all cashed out.

He typed;  _ Guess what, Sparkler? _

His phone beeped immediately 

_ -@ gym _

_ -do  _ **_not_ ** _ approach me in public w/ those pj pants frm bfr _

_ +I don’t have any sweatpants without holes _

_ -Shorts. _

_ +In November???? _

There was an extended period of time in which Dorian kept ‘typing…’, occasionally deleting and ‘typing…’ again.

_ -U can wear the fake adidas w/ bleach stain _

_ -This once _

_ -Fold the ankles, they r a dead giveaway _

_ +K _

He added a strategic thumbs up emoji for embellishment.

 

A packed bus ride and a stop at his place later, he was arguing at the front desk over his membership benefit hours. On his card he should’ve had at least five free hours charged but the boy insisted otherwise.

“I’ve been coming here for two years, are you telling me that  _ in 24 months _ I’ve not saved up any hours?”

“Look man, maybe you used them earlier, I don’t know. But I can’t log you in. The system literally won’t let me.”

The management had changed pretty recently. Even so members should’ve been given a notice had there been any changes on the policy. They’ve been at it for more than fifteen minutes, he was tired, and after Viv he was at his limit for high society. He was just about readying himself to pull the ‘I want to see the manager’ card when the manager saw him.

It was a well-built woman with short black hair and she looked far more intimidating than any other muscle-head he’d seen around here. Coldly, she asked “Is there a problem?”

“Yes, ma’am. You see I’ve been a member since--”

“You must be Cullen’s new neighbour. Flat nine, right?” 

He blinked at the woman, out of words. He gave a suspicious ‘yeah’.

The woman clicked her pen and casually put her signature on his membership card. “Congratulations on your new place.” she mumbled dispassionately.

“Thanks?”

He tried to pull the card back but her grip was stronger “Just so we’re clear,” she whispered as she held the card hostage “If I hear so much a smoke came out of that building, you can expect you and I will have a talk, and it won’t be nearly as friendly. Your kind has done enough to that man.”

He managed to snatch the card from under her grasp. It’s likely that she let him. “Look lady… I ain’t done shit to your man, I don’t plan to… At least not today.” he retreated to a safe distance before giving a sly grin, “Oh, and I’m a smoker.”

He didn’t wait for her response. Slipping through the door, he spotted the other mage immediately. He was hard to miss.

He man, too focused on his very important hip twists, didn’t notice him approach until he was just few steps away from him.

“Took our sweet time, have we?”

“I got held up at the door.”

“Please tell me you didn’t do anything. This is the only gym we are not blacklisted.”

“Funny story, remember that new manager?”

“Tall, brunette, Nevarran... Yes.”

“Yeah, she threatened me… I think.”

Dorian sighed. “What did you do?”

“Nothing, apparently she  _ knows  _ the templar next door. I mean--She just looked at me and recognized me… How’s that even possible?”

“Oh please, like you blend in so well.”

“I like to think so, yeah.”

He hopped of his bench. Wiping himself with a towel, he casually prompted, “Tell me, how many redhead mages who goes by Robin have you seen around here recently?”

“Fair point.”

“Don’t overthink it.”

“Excuse me, have you met me?”

The man cracked a lukewarm smile. 

Robin cocked his head, “I thought you had yoga class today.”

“Budget cuts.”

“Yeah about that,” he reached for his bag to pull out the card Viv so graciously handed to him “I’m about to be your favourite person.”

“Ominous. What’s that?” Dorian grappled at the card but Robin pulled it away “A-ah. Say I’m your favourite person.”

“You’re my favourite person.”

He smirked, “And the best lay you ever had.” The mage rolled his eyes, hard “...and you’re the best lay I ever had.”

“Good boy. Now,” he held the card out for the man “you’re gonna send your research to this email. There’s an opening in assistant staff. If you’re half as good as you claim you are, this should be a cakewalk.”

He studied the card, “This is your university, isn’t it.”

“It sure is.”

“You know as soon as I put my name to the system it’s gonna drop me, right?”

“Oh, but you’re not submitting it through the system, are you?” he pointed at the address written, “That woman is a wyvern’s offspring, she will hate your guts and she sure as hell won’t go easy on you...”

“Lovely.”

“ _ But  _ she respects intelligence above all. Just be yourself, you’ll get along marvelously.”

As he rotated the card in his hand, Dorian’s lips curled into a shrewd smile. 

“I gotta head out,” Robin said, throwing his bag over his back, he gave the man’s shoulder a firm squeeze before walking off. Behind him the man called out “Hey, Rob!”

“Yeah?”

“You  _ are  _ the best lay I ever had!”

He couldn’t help the cheeky grin spreading his face. Although he knew it to be blatant lie, he did get his fair share of Bull before Dorian came into the picture. They’ve had a mutually beneficial deal, more for Robin than him. He liked redheads and Robin liked… well, sex. Particularly the kind that left him walking funny the next day, maybe a little bruised. He had never been the kind that shied away from a challenge. 

He could never come anywhere close to Bull’s level even if he gave it his best. They were different kind of people and it wasn’t more evident in anywhere than the bedroom. To call one ‘giver’ and the other ‘taker’ would make the adolescent boy in him snicker but was also painfully accurate. There were people who derived pleasure from their partner’s and then there were people like Robin; ones that show just enough effort to reach their own fulfillment. 

Him and Dorian worked alright on a skin-deep level but it wasn’t the emotional connection the other mage craved. He could settle for the second best lay he ever had, would still be an impressive accomplishment.

As the keys slid effortlessly in his new door, he assured himself that nothing much changed between them, he still had his people, now he just had a fancier flat and a proper lock to top it off. He bargained with himself to not collapse on the nylon mattress. He was losing daylight and the lights weren’t going to hang themselves.

He prepped everything he needed; pliers, harness tape and the light fixtures. There was just one tiny problem… The ceilings of this place was a little too fucking high!

He realized it trying to balance himself on top of an unsteady pile of no less than three boxes. His fingertips just about grazed the circuitry hanging above when he heard an odd noise at his door. He opted to ignore it as any good neighbour would. Standing on tiptoes, he stretched his fingers to get a hold of the cable. And the noise came again, louder this time. It sounded like someone was scratching his door with a fork. He tried to keep his attention on the work at hand and clasped the tip of the cable with the plier. The scratching stopped and a sudden loud thud made him jump. He tried to rearrange his footing but it was a lost cause, he scarcely had enough time to jump off as the stack gave away from under him, toppling over.

He made a run for the door, sufficiently annoyed. He yanked it open with full force. He had an angry speech prepared only to find the hallway empty. Expecting an attack from his line of sight he was completely unprepared when a blunt force from under lashed on his chest, plunging him backwards on his ass. He felt something… wet? On his arms that he put up to shield his face. When he pulled them apart reluctantly, he was met with the sight of an awfully eager mabari hound drooling on his chin. All tongue out, tail wagging like mad and panting excitedly. He let out a sigh of relief, laughing at himself a little for covering from a dog.

“Hello boy.” he tried to prop himself up. The mabari’s face lit up, hopping off of him to skip around frantically, he huffed at the mage.

“Now who could you be?” he got back on his feet to glance at the hallway, still pretty empty. Mabari looked so sure that he was in the right place though, he had already made himself at home, eagerly circling around Robin’s legs. What a bizarre thing to happen, he though. Bizarre but pleasant. He fell to his knees next to the hound, petting him.

“Oh, but you’re such a good boy! Yes you are!” he scratched behind his ears. The mabari’s response was to giving him a long, wet lick across the face.

“Hey!” he pushed him back and attempted to wipe his face but the hound was insistent. He tried to adopt a more serious tone, “None of that!”

That made the mabari stop, he gave him a confused yelp, tilting his head slightly. “Not before the third date, anyhow. I don’t put out that easy you know.”

Seemingly unaffected by his little speech, he jumped on Robin again. His time Robin returned the favour, roughhousing the hound. But like all good things, this also had to come to an end.

“Peanut?” 

The voice came from his door. Standing there was Cullen Rutherford, all out of breath, with a leash on his hands. He was resting his entire weight on Robin’s doorframe, sweaty from head to toe and with the most befuddled expression on his face.


	4. Chapter 4

The hound spared him a look but was otherwise unconcerned with his supposed owner. 

Robin gave the hound a mischievous nod, “Is this man bothering you, boy?” Mabari huffed affirmatively. 

“Who dares name a noble beast such as yourself…  _ peanut?  _ A controversy!” Mabari grunted in agreement, looking at the baffled man disapprovingly.

“He was smaller when I found him I--”

“Relax,” Robin cut him off, “Well,” he said giving the mabari a pat on the back “I found your dog.”

“I can see that.” when he found a moment to catch his breath, he pulled himself together. “Sorry about that. I don’t know what happened there.”

“No harm done.” Robin shrugged it off but the man kept on rambling “I mean-- this never happened before he doesn’t…” his voice died down to a whisper when the hound rolled over to let Robin give him tummy scratched “...get along with strangers.”

Robin laughed, “Clearly.”

The man looked a bit lost, not just for words, standing precisely at the threshold. Clearly unsure how to proceed. Seems the playtime was over. Robin rose to his feet, “Come in?”  

The man took one careful step, as if he was expecting to trigger a booby trap. Robin eyed the man that looked like he ran a marathon getting here, “You look like shit.”

He snorted, “I was doing laps.”

“Seems like he got you beat,” Robin waved at Peanut. The templar was no threat to anyone in his current condition, otherwise it would take more than an adorable pet for Robin to let him roam his place. It also helped that the man looked more afraid of Robin than he was of him.

“I have…” Robin glanced at his stash, lazily thrown over the counter “beer and water. And half a can of strawberry soda.”

“Beer is fine.”

He pulled out two bottles but now he was left with a dilemma. He didn’t have his fridge set up yet. It wouldn’t be a problem usually, he’d just cool them with his hands. 

The thing is, mages weren’t allowed to mage, per se. There were cases inwhich that was overlooked. Such as matters of health or safety. They could argue the fireball from last night was a necessity to navigate safely, but the same argument couldn’t be made for a bottle of beer. Use of magic for convenience could be subject to a complaint. In addition, he’d definitely be in trouble it the report was filed by an ex-templar. The Order may have dissolved but they were still held in high regard. Even if he had no personal beef with Robin, he was still bound by law to alert the authorities had he witnessed any usage of magic. 

On the other hand, warm beer tasted like piss. He thought that maybe, for this once, it wouldn’t hurt to communicate. If nothing else, his reaction could indicate where he stood on the matter. 

“Want me to cool it off for you?” he held the bottle out for the templar, examining his reaction closely. The man reached out at first but then something stood his hand. His dubious gaze swapped between Robin and the bottle. It felt like he had the exact thought process Robin had, evaluating his options. If he said yes now and reported it later, he could be charged for provocation, provided they believed Robin. But it was still no small risk. There was one logical conclusion which the templar was inevitable going to reach…

“Yeah, sure.”

Which was not that. After this today and the accident last night, Robin was convinced that they were most definitely not speaking the same wavelength. He focused his magic towards his palms, feeling the bottles grow cold in his grasp. Cautiously he handed one over, waiting for the other man to behave before taking a sip himself.

“So…” templar started, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Robin raised his brows, “So.”

He knew the templar would eventually bring up the elephant in the room, he’d been poking at it like a piñata, he just assumed he’d handle the subject more gracefully than ‘so.’ Meanwhile peanut was trying to dig a hole through his floorboards. He wished he could do the same, he hadn’t felt this uncomfortable in a very long time. At least this time it seemed mutual.

“You’ve been settling in alright?” he changed the unspoken subject.

“Yeah.”

Templar threw a glance at all the stuff that were just as unpacked as he left them yesterday, he didn’t comment on it. Robin thought he should probably thank him for the pizza but that would tread dangerously close to the particular topic they’ve been circling around so when he opened his mouth what came out instead was “I dropped by the gym today.”

“Oh?”

“Ran into your girlfriend, she threatened to…” he pondered how to describe whatever transpired “talk to me. She wasn’t very good at it.”

“My what?” the man almost spit out his beer “She did what?”

“Thanks for that, by the way.”

The templar cleared his throat abruptly, looking even more flustered than before “Cass isn’t-- We’re not…”

“Whatever. Are there any other templar buddies I should know about that you may have mentioned your new neighbour to?”

The man shook his head fervently. Then he blinked as if he had a revelation, “Wait, you know about me?”

“Obviously.”

“How?”

“You reek of lyrium.”

The man brought his nose toward his arm, trying to smell himself and making Robin burst out laughing uncontrollably. 

“Are you for real?”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s not that kind of a smell, mate.” he tried to explain but he couldn’t help smirking like an idiot “More like a feeling of… connection. Lyrium and we are cut from the same cloth after all, figuratively speaking.”

“So…” his brows furrowed “You can ‘sense’ templars?”

“In a manner of speaking.” he chuckled. He was a little surprised that this wasn’t common knowledge but then he couldn’t imagine how exactly it would come up in a casual conversation. The man must’ve been thinking something similar, he seemed to be mentally scolding himself for not recognizing this. He rubbed his face in embarrassment. Take all the templar issue out of the equation and even Robin would have to admit how downright adorable he looked. He assumed he could at least admire the man on an aesthetic level like like a well crafted dagger or a revolver. If only they weren’t made to take lives.

“It makes sense now.” he cracked a bittersweet smile, “Not many people get intimidated by me since… well…”

“The war?”

“Yes.”

It must help that they didn’t have a brand to show at every security point, Robin thought sourly. 

They both drank the rest of their beers in silence. By the Maker they were awful at small talk. But for some unfathomable reason, they just couldn’t take time to mourn the premature death of their pathetic dialogue.

“You were setting up the lights?” He gestured at the pincer still left pinched on the ceiling cable.

“There was an attempt.”

They spared a moment of silence for the passing of another topic. Eventually the templar gave up. He almost lost his hand trying to put a leash on Peanut. That mabari was here to stay. 

“Actually, do you have a ladder?” the mage asked, trying to sound casual. Apparently, he didn't have a ladder. That’s where they should’ve left it.

“I can lift you up.”

Robin opened his mouth to scream from the top of his lungs ‘ _Absolutely not!’_ but he was left yapping like a goldfish. Probably a very red, very sweaty goldfish. Thankfully the noble hound came for his rescue, distracting the templar enough for him to collect his jaw. Then he went through his options, he tried to imagine what Dorian -a more decent person- would do if he needed help with household chores. He had an idea but it would take more than one bottle of beer. While the templar was having a heated argument with his dog, he helped himself with some Rivaini gold, 

“Okay.” keeping his voice as low as he could, he hoped maybe he wouldn’t be heard. Obviously, he wasn’t that lucky, and now it was the other man’s turn to get startled. It was one of those questions people ask just to be polite, expecting to be turned down.

Honestly, this was nothing, he’d done worst things with a lot less attractive people. It wouldn’t be nearly as weird if he didn’t dodge the hand offered to him yesterday. 

As he approached the man in a tentative manner, the faint tingling of lyrium beckoned him forward. He’d felt this before, most predominantly before a strike. Lyrium would lash out like a blinding flash, violent and sharp. It seemed like lyrium they took resonated their intent to some degree, if you knew what to look for.

As far as Robin could tell, the magical essence of the man was docile. 

True to his intuition, the man bent over slightly to let him climb on his back looked as docile as they come. He flung his legs above his extremely well-built shoulders, wrapping his thighs around his neck. 

Templar rose without warning, almost causing Robin to swung back head-first to the ground. In panic, he latched onto his curls. When he settled safely, he pat his head as if he was still caring for the dog, “Slow down big boy, you’re gonna break your back.” 

Robin shook with the man as he chuckled “You’ll need try harder to break this back.” The man seemed to have lifted him up almost effortlessly. He was maybe a feet closer to the ceiling now. As dubious as he was, even he could agree this felt significantly more efficient than a couple off unbalanced boxes. He reached out for the pitcher and tore the tip of the cable, exposing wires.

“You know your way around these things?” the man asked while studying the light on his hand.

“Somewhat, need a mechanic?”

“Occasionally. Pre-blight buildings come with certain flaws…”

While working the wires apart into hoops, he thought about the place he shared with Bull. It had taken them a month to just get the power to work, the infrastructure was overlapping with the plumbing, needed a complete makeover just to not get electrocuted whenever they took shower.

“This is a five star suite compared to the last flat I lived in.”

“That bad?”

“I’m fine so long as there’s a roof over my head.”

“True enough.” he nodded but it sounded like there was something else he wanted to say, hanging abruptly in the air. It made Robin smile for some reason, to think he’d come all the way to Hightown to meet the only templar who he’d willingly established a contact with would turn out to be the shyest he’s ever met. “Now you’re wondering how a mage in hand-me-downs managed to afford a life among the elites of Kirkwall, right?”

“Well--” the tips of his ears were growing bright red as he stumbled over his words, “I wouldn’t presume to know your occupation.”

“You can ask.”

The man exhaled an amused breath, handing him the light “So Robin, what do you do for living?”

“Whatever pays.” he shrugged, “I’m in-between ‘jobs’, so to speak. I fill in from time to time as a bartender down at the Hanged Man. What about you?”

“Currently unemployed.”

Robin wasn’t surprised. After the disbanding of the Order, all templars shared similar fates. Trained for the Order from a very young age, many lacked skills and education required for common fields of work. Last he checked the unemployment rate of retired templars was something like ninety-eight percent.

“Benefits pay for a place like this?” He asked without thinking how nosy it would sound but the man didn’t seem to mind.

“Josephine is a friend, she rented me this place for a reasonable price. At least until I find a job to pay the full price.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

“You think?”

It was a rhetorical question, however that didn’t stop Robin from blurting out “Can’t be too hard for a man with the looks like yours.”

As soon as the words left his mouth he felt all of his blood rushing to his face. His brain came up short to find something lighthearted to say that would make him sound less thirsty. Would he brush it off as a playful statement or flirtation, he wasn’t sure but either way it was a couple of hundred steps farther than the line he was willing to cross with the templar next-door today.

“I suppose I can always try my luck with modeling. Or did you have something else in mind?” he laughed obliviously. It was quite clear he was unaware of the implications of what he was saying. So many sly comments came to his mind, none appropriate enough to voice.

“You know, Merchant’s Guild can always use a ladder or two.”

The man almost lost his footing trying to hold back a laughter. He remarked jokingly “That’s racist!”

“I’ll apologize to them when I see them,” he then ushered the man towards the counter “now hand me that bottle.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?” he said but he was already on his way.

“I will not be judged in my own house, by my own ladder.”

“I feel objectified.” he grinned as he passed the bottle to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i mean...


End file.
